Richmond dispatch. [volume] (Richmond, Va.) 1884-1903, 1887-11-27

Enough enter. Conduct us to your
ROOM" was his order.
I went in. On the veranda. ut the
door OF No. 2, stood Client holding can
die above his head, so that his face was
in shadow while the light fell on us. He
was pale, as / saw II moment later, but
he played his part to admiration.
"What is this ?" he asked, with the
superior air which Englshmen permit
themselves abroad. "What does this
mean 2"
"Your name. sir " cried the leader by
way of answer.
"My name is Rouse Lynton, and l
am an artist and an Englishman," he re-
piled haughtily. Here is my pass
port, and | ask you again what this
means?
The officer cast a single glance at the
paper and returnedit. alt is in order,
he said politely. 81 have made inqui-
ries and know about you, Senor DO
not let me disturb you. We are merely
making a capture"
"But be, too, is English, q" put in
Client, looking at me in well-ielgned sur
prise.
" Ciertamentc ! but criminal.
GOOD heavens / do not believe it;
it cannot be. Is there nothing" he
added, addressing me with concern,
"that can do for you? Send tele-
gram or anything of that kind
Yes" | cried eagerly, telegraph to
the English Minister at Madrid.
Il l. I M
up your heart" .,,.
leader with a grim smile ; "you will do
no good. And besides, the office Is
closed"
"Then I will have it opened" cried
Client hotly, acting the English traveller
TO the life, and with a gesture of en-
couragement he ratified noisily away.
"Your room is No. l." dictated the
officer ADDRESSING me. Enter"
| did so. Jock sprlng up, and with
his coat bristling about his neck growled
ominously at my companions. L told
him to lie down.
at is the other Englishman's dog,
said one of the guards.
as that so ?" replied the officer,
glancing sharply at me. "Then how
comes it in this room? But to work !
Search !"
In five minutes their skilful fingers
had overhauled the luggage which ives
lying about They found nothing to
the purpose.
"Tho bed" was the next command.
| do not know what seized upon me
then; whether it was sheer longing to
give vent to my excitement that carried
me away, or the memory OF Clients
words: "And mems lives they will
cost !" that inspired me with some spirit
that certainly was not my own. can
not say. Only l know that when the
order Nov the bee" was given l
sprang between it and the searchers.
"No!" 1 shouted, waving them back.
"Wait !"
Ii 1 had dim notion of delaying
them and gaining time the attempt was
as vain as it was foolish.
"Madman !" cried the leader, drop
ping the mask, and suddenly beside
himself with rage stand back. Juan,
Felipe, do your duty y
flung one from me another | had
a moments awful consciousness OF a car
bine leveled at my chest, of a finger
pressing on the trigger, OF a sheathed
sword that struck the weapon a second
before it exploded, of the officer shout
ing in a voice of thunder above the tu-
multi, "No dqui! Dcspues!" and
then a strong arm flung me forcibly
against the wall. l saw Jock leap for
ward, his teeth bared-saw some one fire
hastily-saw the dog fall bleeding by the
bed. The room grew thick with smoke.
ooh, my God /" cried, and covered
my face. Twas trembling in every limb.
Some one not urgently drew the dog
aside. Instinctively 1 knelt down and
tried to stanch the blood. Poor Jock
Presently-in the mean time / was
taking no heed of their doings-I heard
a cry of satisfaction and looked up.
They had discovered the two rolls, and
bending over them as they lay on the
bed were unfastening the wrappers. |
went and looked on alphabetically. l
waited, no longer with any feeling that
it concerned me, to see the musterrolls
and LOYAL autographs and promises that
were TO cost SO dearly, of which
Client had spoken. But what was this
The Spagnoletto Oh, yes 1 under
stood how that came to be here. But
these-these pictures which followed !?
Could it be that all the subscriptions
took the form Of paintings? Or what
was this delicate Moro, fit for a royal
gallery, doing here? And that possible
Murillo? That portrait which might
have been by Velasquez That San Sc
bastian thai was at least by pupil OF
Caravaggio ? My head reeled, l passed
my hand over my eyes and looked again.
1t was not a delusiOn. There the can
vases lay one on the other, their edges
strangely rough, their corners frayed-
canvases worth kings ransom.
The other roll was full of odds and
ends. valueless but equally strange: pic
ture backs, and rough pieces OF cloth.
and opened letters. Among these last L
saw, with scarcely any added wonder.
envelopes and letters directed to myself.
81 do not understand" | said feebly,
looking from one guard to another.
They had all turned TO me to see how L
| took their discoveries. nc lOlu Iuc
that he was Carlist-a spy sent here to
bride the troops. But what are these
doing here 2 | do not understand.
"Who told you-and what?" cried
the leader.
"Clent! Client told me-" and then
stopped dazed and bewildered. Two
or three laughed; the officer, gazing
fixedly at rue, did not. l met his gaze
vacantly then my eyes wandered to the
corner and fell upon poor Jock. A mist
passed from my mind, my brain cleared !;
/ spoke aloud and sharply. "He has
fooled us all !" l said, "you as well as
me Iam not Client. am Rouse Lyn-
ton, the artist. He told me"
"Who? who :? who ?" cried the Off
Ger with fierce impotence.
"Clent, the man whom you want-the
man in No. /. He told me that he was
a Carlist in danger Of arrest. l gave
him my passport; took his room and
he mine. What is it he has done?"
dome ?" cried the man, stamping
about the room in furious rage. "Can